


Threading the Loom

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After some time in the Q-Continuum, Kathryn learns to be careful what she wishes for when she comes home with a souvenir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threading the Loom

**Author's Note:**

> written for Katthryn on VAMB's Secret Santa exchange 2010. Thanks for the lovely request!!!

There were a few situations where Kathryn Janeway advocated denial. Most often, she stood for the truth, however blunt or ugly. One such moment concerned the number of cups of coffee she had in a day, when asked by her mother or, recently, Chakotay, who occasionally seemed to channel Gretchen's disapproval. Another was how long she'd been awake. The truth only seemed to make people worry, and when they worried, she couldn't work. Denial was essential then.

She'd never been faced with this particular situation before, and as she sat there on the biobed, wringing water from her hair, Kathryn knew denial was her only option. It couldn't be true. No matter how much she trusted Kes not to play jokes on her, or lie, there was no way in the universe Kathryn could answer her question with anything but a blank, immediate denial.

"That's not possible."

Kes' impossibly wide eyes grew even larger with sympathy. She probably didn't have to argue with patients often, especially not the captain, but the Doctor was taking a few hours in the holodeck so sickbay, and all the inherent dangers within, were Kes' responsibility.

"Captain."

"Run the scan again."

Kes held up the tricorder, detached the probe and ran it in a slow circuit of Kathryn's body. She read the tricorder, then handed it over.

Kathryn's hands were still damp. She'd left the bath in a hurry, and hadn't taken the time to dry them. She had meant to. The towels were there when she stood up out of the hot water but standing had made her head spin. Tiny golden dots had snuck into her vision, standing out brilliantly like stars when everything around her faded to black. She sat on the edge of the bath, catching her breath as the mysterious heat that came with the damn dots faded and left her trembling.

Maybe the bath had been too hot. Perhaps she'd picked up a protozoan on the last away mission. Maybe she had developed a fortunate allergy to leola root, and it was only manifesting itself now. She'd dragged herself to sickbay, pulling on her robe over her still wet skin. Now she should be cold, but she wasn't. Not externally, anyway. Her wet hair lay against her shoulder in a wet mass of tendrils, all bent on escape. She couldn't escape. Kes had read and reread the tricorder.

"Maybe you should lie down, Captain."

It would be easier if she wasn't so polite. The Doctor Kathryn could have blown off before she returned to her quarters, dried off and forgot the whole situation. Kes was genuinely confused by Kathryn's denials, and she felt a responsibility to rectify that.

"I haven't had sex."

That should be all she had to say. No sex meant not chance of pregnancy. It was impossible and Kathryn's situation had to be a fluke: a damaged tricorder, a spatial anomaly, an alternate timeline-- anything but the truth.

"I can run a more through scan if you lie down, Captain."

Kathryn swallowed hard and wound her fingers into each other. She rested them on her stomach, but had to move them up to her chest. She wasn't pregnant. It was absolutely impossible.

"The foetus was conceived within forty-eight hours of Stardate 50385.6. You were in the Q Continuum on that date. Is it possible Q may have?"

"No! No that's not possible." Kathryn sat up quickly. Too quickly, she realised when her head spun again.

Kes steadied her shoulder. "It's all right, Captain. The foetus is entirely human."

"But I didn't--"

She bit her lip and shut her eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. She hadn't had sex, with anyone, since Earth. Not that she'd had a lack of desire. Ever since New Earth Chakotay's smile had done something to the pit of her stomach that was distinctly less than professional.

"I can't be pregnant." Kathryn got the word out without choking. That was a small victory.

"Let me run a DNA scan. The computer should be able to tell me who the father is."

She wasn't having this conversation. She was somewhere else, or dreaming, and somehow all of this was going to vanish and she'd go back to her quarters.

"Captain?"

Kathryn chewed the sensitive lining of her lower lip, letting the sting force her to focus.

"I'm sorry Kes. What is it?"

"I don't know if this is important."

"Distract me."

Kes' tiny smile was all too gentle. Kathryn must have looked like hell.

"You wrote in your report that the Q reproduce by touching their fingers together while concentrating on creating life. If the mental component is so important, is it possible that somehow the Continuum transferred that ability to you, even temporarily?"

Kathryn couldn't decide if she wanted to vomit or if she could force her brain to cooperate. Putting as much energy as possible into the latter, she slid off the bed and peered over Kes' shoulder. Her DNA pattern was readily apparent in that of the new life form, but the father's pattern was less distinct. There was a dominant pattern, composing ninety-three percent of the father's pattern, but two others made small appearances.

"It's as if the two other patterns were woven in with the dominant one to correct mild genetic flaws. This portion here seems to have been chosen to select for a strong, adaptive liver, and this portion here decreases the risk of osteoporosis in old age."

"The father was genetically engineered?"

Kes frowned, then shook her head thoughtfully. "No, nothing that crude. It's as if the patterns were merged. The dominant pattern is by far the strongest. Let me compare it to the database."

If she'd somehow thought herself into a pregnancy while inside the Continuum, Kathryn's choices were limited. Chakotay had been there, Tuvok, Tom and Harry. Since there was no sign of Vulcan DNA, she'd dodged that difficult situation. Had Chakotay's, Tom's and Harry's DNA all been merged somehow? She'd touched all of them at some point, even brushing against them accidentally as they rescued her.

Which one was the ninety-three percent? Who's life had she irrevocably altered? Kathryn's thoughts fled to Chakotay and remained there stubbornly. Harry was too young, too innocent, and far too beneath her in rank. She couldn't consider it. Tom was more experienced, but he was just starting to put his life together. It was no time for him to have a baby thrust upon him, and certainly not a baby that was his captain's. He had enough problems with authority figures.

What could she tell Chakotay? What would he say? She'd pushed him away so many times, how could she confess that Q, of all people, had brought them together and bound them.

Was the foetus a shackle? Something yoking them together when they both were headed in other directions? She'd kept the parameters so firmly between them that she only had herself to blame if he was angry with her.

But it wasn't her fault. She didn't want this. She had neither the time nor the energy to be anyone else's mother. She had a whole ship full of responsibilities already.

"Captain." Kes touched her shoulder, easing her back to reality. "Commander Chakotay is the dominant pattern. It is possible that he had the longest physical contact with you while in the Continuum. I will discuss the possibility with the Doctor and have him go over my results."

"I'm sure your scans are fine, Kes."

As much as she wanted them to be wrong, Kathryn knew Kes was more often right than wrong. The Doctor would confirm it in a few hours, and probably give her a lecture as he did. No denial would save her. No rationalising her incredibly dull sex life could alter the fact that someone, Q's attempt to have a child with her had resulted in her carrying Chakotay's child. It was Q's fault, focusing on that made her feel slightly better.

Kes smiled at her, still overly gentle, as if Kathryn were about to flee from sickbay.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but, I know you're going to be a great mother."

"The two hours a day I'll have free to spend with him, or her."

"The crew has been very supportive of Samantha and Naomi. I'm sure something similar can be arranged for your baby."

Kathryn retreated towards the biobed, pulling her eyes away from the console before it began to swim in front of her eyes. If it had been anyone else in her crew, she would have known what to say. She could have comforted B'Elanna, or Kes or Tal Celes if one of them had turned up pregnant, looking for her advice. She'd say something about how Voyager was a family, and a family took care of all the members, even unexpected ones. Voyager had survived the Kazon, the Viidians and being so far from home that a baby might have grey hair by the time he or she saw Earth. Anyone else's baby would have been a blessing, a trying and demanding one, but something to be celebrated.

Why was she mourning hers? She still had time, she could ask Kes and the Doctor to terminate the pregnancy. The ship needed her more, didn't it? What was she thinking? How could she be this selfish? Even if the crew came to her rescue with child care, she was demanding that of them. She was depriving them of her time and energy and asking them to expend more of theirs. She couldn't do it.

How could she?

"Captain?"

"I'm sorry, Kes. I--"

She needed to get out of sickbay. Kathryn didn't care where she was going, but she wasn't capable of staying in sickbay.

"I need some air."

Kes, bless her, let her go without mentioning that the air in sickbay was exactly the same as the air on the rest of the ship.  


* * *

 

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

"Captain Janeway is in deck fifteen, section twenty-one."

Chakotay frowned at the computer. Section twenty-one was an incredible dull part of plasma flow regulation. No one was down there, and no one needed to be, especially not the captain. Kathryn liked to visit each part of the ship in turn, strolling through when she had time so every part of the ship saw the captain. She was hands-on. He liked that about her.

She was usually punctual, which was why her tardiness for their meeting was so out of character. Oh-six thirty was not a good time for a walk through the ship.

"Is she stationary?"

"Affirmative. Captain Janeway has not moved for seven minutes, fifty-one seconds."

He could go to her, which gave him the double excuse of taking her the meeting and bringing Kathryn her coffee. She might resent him slightly for the former, but she'd appreciate the latter. Leaving his office, Chakotay headed for the mess hall. It was quiet, most of the crew about to begin Alpha shift were clinging to mugs and scraping up the last of their breakfasts. The porridge looked remarkably normal, and if he had more time, he would have tried it but he had to settle for toast.

There was no peanut butter, but there was some better-than-peanut-butter pulverised Delta Quadrant nut substitute that had the consistency of paste but tasted faintly of cinnamon. It didn't help that it was a blue-grey, but he didn't have to look at his food to eat it. Whenever he was nostalgic for Maquis food, he knew the Delta Quadrant was getting to him. Those were the days he put more energy into smiling and being grateful for all that they had: a sturdy ship, a steadily tighter-knit crew and plenty to eat, even if much of it was oddly-coloured and even more strangely textured.

Coffee pot in hand, Chakotay found her lying on the deck, an arm under her head while she stared out the portal at the stars just past the port nacelle. This close to the warp field they were especially distorted, flashing past in patterns of multicoloured light. It was beautiful, one of the little secrets of the ship he suspected only she, B'Elanna and Tuvok really knew. Tuvok probably did not appreciate the aesthetic beauty and B'Elanna would never take the time to see it.

Kathryn was in her pyjamas, which was odd. Her hair was down and loose, which was even more strange. For a moment, he would have guessed she was asleep, but her eyes were open in the reflection in the portal.

"This is new. Camping out in the lower decks? I think I missed that part of command training."

She sat up halfway, startled, then found a weak smile for him. "I needed to think."

"All night long?"

Dragging herself upright, Kathryn rolled her shoulders and winced. "I was hoping for an hour or two, I think all night just snuck up on me."

"I have coffee."

"I knew there was a reason I made you first officer."

She tilted her neck from side to side, working out what had to be fairly angry knots. She accepted her coffee and stared into the cup. Leaving coffee undrunk was as un-Kathryn Janeway as appearing in public looking less than her best.

"Do you want to--"

She beat him to it. Gulping her coffee for strength, Kathryn met his eyes. There was a trace of a challenge there. The fire that had first made him so curious about what this woman could do burned fresh and vulnerable.

"I need to make a choice."

"All right. Have you tried to weigh both sides of the decision?"

Kathryn gulped more of her coffee and held her cup out again miserably. "One side is full of practicalities, the other seems selfish."

"You're allowed to be selfish occasionally. You can't live for your ship."

He hit something, and she wrapped her arms around her chest tightly, as if protecting herself. Kathryn pulled her knees up, becoming a far smaller person than her charisma usually allowed.

"Why not? Why shouldn't I?"

If he could have hugged her, Chakotay would have. He settled for a hand on her knee, which she allowed.

"Because a ghost of Kathryn Janeway can't get her crew home. We need you intact. A little bit of selfishness actually holds a person together."

"I didn't know that."

He shifted in the tiny space so that he sat next to her. "Well, I can't imagine that you would. Taking care of yourself seems to be a gap in your education."

"I'll complain to my school."

"Do that."

Kathryn clung to her coffee cup, took a sip, then steeled herself.

"I have a problem."

"Excellent. I live for your problems."

"Chakotay--"

"What else do I do? Really, Captain, I'm all set. Hit me."

"You're involved."

He chuckled. "Now what have I done."

"Nothing."

She gulped down more of her coffee quickly enough that it must have hurt her throat.

"No one did anything."

"Okay."

Chakotay couldn't think of anything, so he waited, letting the silence draw her out.

"It's a Q problem."

That he did not want to hear. He stiffened, trying to catch her eyes.

"Q?"

"He didn't do anything either."

Sensing his distress, she patted his arm.

"I did, or the Continuum did. It's foggy."

"So Q, you and I are involved in a foggy situation that the Continuum may have caused?"

Pressing her hand against her mouth suddenly, Kathryn shook her head.

"I set it off."

"In the Continuum?"

"I think so."

Her voice faltered, and she leaned back, eyes tightly shut.

"I didn't know thoughts could be a problem."

Whatever it was, it was bad enough to have her on the verge of tears, which left him with a very short list. Chakotay stilled himself, finding his centre so he could be calm for her.

"They are in the Continuum. I, well, I seem to have thought my way into a mess."

"Puppies?"

She had loved that dog Q had made for her. Maybe there were a few running around the cargo bay.

She choked, but it was nearly a laugh. She set down her coffee, then picked it up, staring at it as if she could see Earth in the reflection on the surface.

"I'm pregnant."

He chuckled. "That would be a surprise."

It was a bit off-colour for a joke, but she was trying. Chakotay prepared to keep laughing, but Kathryn was too serious. Far too serious.

"We're still not exactly sure how--"

"You're serious."

"Oh it gets worse."

She gulped the rest of her coffee in record time, wiping her hand across her mouth.

"Kathryn--"

Protocol abandoned, he caught her wrist and squeezed, wishing he could hug her close and take it all away.

"I need you to listen. I won't finish if I stop, and I don't know what I'm going to say. If I keep going, I might ramble onto something right, even though I can't make my mind stop racing. According to the computer it's ours. Yours and mine. I don't know if we touched, or held hands or if I--"

She stopped dead, as if she'd reached a forcefield.

"It's possible I wanted it to be you."

Her cup was empty, and she couldn't use it to hide her guilt. With a fiance on Earth, she'd wanted, even for an instant, to have another man's child. No wonder she couldn't sleep. The idea of a child ran singing through his head, turning his thoughts to flame, but Chakotay focused. He breathed slowly, finding the essence of calm. Kathryn needed his strength, not his shock and wonder.

He wanted to hug her, to hold her close and promise everything would be okay. They'd made parameters before, they could make them again. Their tribe was strong enough for a child.

Chakotay couldn't say anything of the kind. He can't embrace her, or kiss her cheek where the tear glistened. He had a place, and it was not that close to her.

"Are you healthy?"

Kathryn turned the cup around in a slow circle between her hands. "Fine."

"You didn't sleep."

"You thought that was funny a moment ago."

"It was when you weren't--"

"And that's the problem." She turned in the tiny space, putting herself directly across from her. The cup rested on the deck between them and her hands reach for his. It was intimate, and his heart forgot that beating was part of its mandate.

"There's a whole ship up there and I can't be distracted. I can't look away from the viewscreen because I'm worrying about a baby. I can't be scatterbrained because an infant isn't sleeping. I can't--"

The last reason died in her throat. Despite her concerns, despite her best efforts to convince herself, Kathryn can't terminate her pregnancy. Unwelcome, unplanned, and entirely impossible as it is, this baby was already part of her responsibilities.

"Kathryn--"

Her name was a risk, but safety was long behind him.

"Out here, we do things differently. Not because we want to, or we like not having a starbase to turn to and Starfleet Command to ask for orders, we make do, we make our own way because we must. There's no option but to go on, so we set a course for Earth and we muddle our way through. We've lost the ship and stolen it back. We lose people, we gain new ones. It's unorthodox, it's entirely outside of standard operating procedure. If we can make Starfleet and the Maquis work together, we can handle a baby and a tired captain on a morning or two."

She shook her head, tightening her grip. "I won't do that to a child. I'd never see her. I'll always be working. How can I--?"

"How much did your father see you?"

"That's not his fault." The bitterness in her voice was much sharper than tears.

"Or Tuvok. He hasn't seen his children in three years. He's a terrible father."

"No, of course--"

"But you would be."

Reaching for her cheek, he never meant to touch her, but contact sent a shiver through them both.

"How can I nurse a baby? Tell bedtime stories from my ready room? Give birth during a battle? I have a ship. I have responsibilities."

He shrugged, keeping his hand on her cheek.

"Not all the time."

"Yes, all of the time. There's no switch that makes me stop being the captain."

Kathryn tried to move away, but he held her steady, with him.

"You sleep. You eat. You occasionally go to the holodeck. The ship has survived that so far."

"A baby is a good deal more work than a holonovel."

"Then we'll adapt."

"How can we adapt! It's ludicrous. No captain can share herself with her crew and an infant. I'll be terrible at both positions. Everyone will suffer--"

Catching her chin with his other hand, he held her gaze before dropping his hands to hers and holding them tight.

"Do I get a say?"

"Yes."

He turned the pause into a cheery one with a smile. "Less than yours."

"You're not pregnant."

Chuckling made her wince and shake her head, but, and he never would have guessed he'd have the fortitude, he hugged her. He held her close to his chest, tight and warm and still; he put as much of his faith into her as he could.

"If it were an option, I'd take it."

"You'd hate the hormones."

"I'd do it for you."

That fell far too easily from his tongue and the tears she had been fighting returned in force to her eyes.

"Chakotay--"

Another argument was just over the horizon, and he could feel the ones that follow like an approaching storm. It won't be easy. It'll be at times miserable, an exhausting path that leads through darkness he can't yet imagine.

So was the Delta Quadrant, and her, and the whole ridiculous idea that his crew could blend into hers: that they'd be a family.

A loving family can support a child. A strong village can raise a baby. The ancestors made no caveats for that village not being a starship, or that family not having a half-Klingon aunt, and a Vulcan uncle who will never really agree on parenting with the Talaxian one, but the Ocampa aunt should be able to calm them.

When she started to protest, he kissed her, sealing the moment as the most impromptu, yet most promising of his life.

For once, Kathryn didn't fight him. Instead, to his delight, she met him more than halfway.

\- finis -


End file.
